


A Magical Alpine Year

by saretton



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale in lederhosen, Crowley can't ski, Fluff, Gen, Happy times all around, Holidays, Hot Chocolate, Mountains, Skiing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Winter, the whole team has a hell of a good time in the Alps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saretton/pseuds/saretton
Summary: The little wooden chalet was filled with the aroma of freshly prepared hot chocolate. The day had been long and full of fun; now everyone was gathered around the crackling fireplace, relaxing and recounting the adventures of the morning and the afternoon.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley & Anathema Device & Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley & The Them (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19
Collections: An Eventful Surprise





	A Magical Alpine Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bisasterdi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisasterdi/gifts).



> This is for [bisasterdi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisasterdi/pseuds/bisasterdi), the most patient and competent fandom event planner out there, as well as a wonderfully sweet and lovely person.  
> Thank you for all the time and the hard work you've put in each of these events and in the ones to come, for giving us the opportunity to build wonderful friendships across the continents, and simply for being you! <3
> 
> Thanks a million times to [Pyracantha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyracantha) for beta reading and cheerleading! :)

The little wooden chalet was filled with the aroma of freshly prepared hot chocolate – hot, steaming chocolate in everyone’s own favourite flavours – dark, white, mint, cinnamon, caramel, hazelnut, even coconut or chili. The day had been long and full of fun; now everyone was gathered around the crackling fireplace, relaxing and recounting the adventures of the morning and the afternoon.

Outside, the sky was clear, the stars were as sparkly as a diamond tiara, and the moon cast its silver light on the quiet, sleepy, snowy landscape.

The children seemed to have lost just a little of their never-ending energy. They were all busy chatting very seriously, sitting in a small circle on the floor and discussing the existence of aliens with Anathema and Newt. At the moment, the main topic being tackled was whether they (the aliens) would appreciate more a landing by the sea or in the middle of a lovely mountain resort and natural park, like the one they were currently in.

The topic of the safety procedures necessary for the spaceship to land seemed to have stirred a particular interest in the small council. Pepper and Wensley were absolutely in favour of a sandy beach, because there wouldn’t be pointy rocks or dangerous slopes to tilt the flying saucer making it go downhill, or to skewer it like a corn dog. Adam and Brian, on the other hand, were worried of the alien visitors’ potential nostalgia for their home; a landing on a mountain would certainly make them feel closer to the sky, the universe and, ultimately, their planet. Besides, what if the spaceship wasn’t equipped for a water landing? What if the alien came from a rocky planet and didn’t like the texture of the sand beneath their tentacles? The discussion seemed to be never-ending.

Anathema moderated this impromptu round table about international relations, trying not to interfere more than strictly necessary. In fact, she was having one hell of a time just listening to the Them arguing like members of the United Nations. Newt, for some inexplicable reason that must have had at least something to do with a sudden fit of stubbornness, had been trying to take notes of the discussion on an iPad that kept shutting down with equal stubbornness as soon as he opened the Notes app.

Aziraphale and Crowley watched the scene, lazy and happy and more than a little amused by their human friends, while sprawled and tangled up on the couch. If the laws of physics hadn’t been in everyone’s way, the two of them would have currently formed a Gordian knot of limbs and clothes. Instead, they were simply mashed together while balancing their hot chocolate mugs in their hands.

An orange plaid heavy blanket was half-hidden, half-tangled in the middle of that mess, but it still provided the warmth and comfort that were required from it. While Crowley wore the heaviest jumpers and sweaters one on the other because of his cold blood, Aziraphale by contrast sported some rather distinctive lederhosen with tartan details. If Crowley had to be frank, those things would have looked ridiculous and ghastly and out of fashion on anyone but _him_.

Crowley grumbled at his husband’s fashion choices, but only a little. He still remembered his own misadventure that day, when he’d tried to ski while wearing too many layers. Now, imagine an overclothed snake trying to ski. That is pretty much the correct picture you’d get of Crowley that morning. His formidable hips hadn’t helped him in the least, and he had fallen into the snow face first more than once.

Aziraphale, for his part, had helped him get back up every time, and then had proceeded to illustrate the joys and safeties of cross-country skiing, which he himself had discovered only that morning.

Still, during one of those tirades, he’d been so caught in his demonstration that, at a certain point, he’d tripped and fallen down as well in the snow, right next to Crowley. The resulting smirk on Crowley’s face had prompted a snowball war between the two, which all the kids, Newt and Anathema had joined, and that had ended in a draw. Everyone agreed that wooden sleds were perfectly good, though, and the whole group had proceeded to make extensive use of them.

And when, eventually, they all had flopped down in the snow, laughing and pleasantly exhausted, seven perfectly shaped snow angels were left on the ground when they got up, plus one suspiciously wiggly shape that looked a lot like a snow serpent with two tiny wings.

Aziraphale sighed, happy and just a little sleepy, his cheeks as red as apples as he recounted in his mind further memories of that lovely day. For a start – excellent food, that of the Alps. They’d had polenta and meat stew, and cheesecake with berries for dessert; and before that, some cheese fondue; and chocolate fondue, too, by popular demand; and still Crowley had just taken a simple cup of coffee, content to just watch everyone eat. Especially to watch Aziraphale eat; he’d never been subtle about that, after all. From time to time he had even indulged Aziraphale and he’d let the angel feed him a morsel or two.

And that was exactly what Crowley had been doing all evening: holding a mug of cocoa just to witness as it turned cold, miracling it back hot and liquid and taking a sip just to make the angel happy.

The afternoon had been spent in quiet skiing sessions and a walk in the natural park surrounding the resort. The whole group had spotted some steinbocks and admired their regal indifference from afar. Noticing the kids’ enthusiasm, Crowley had gone to have a little chat to convince the whole lot to let their hair be petted and their majestic horns be touched.

“Got a lot of those horned little heads, Down Below,” Crowley had shrugged. “ _And_ Azazel owes me a favour or two, that old goat…” But the look of quiet happiness on his face as he saw the children politely interacting and playing with the steinbocks was undeniable.

Frogs were still sleeping under the mud of the clear, half-frozen stream. The pine trees were dressed in white, the cold air was invigorating and peaceful, and its gentle stings felt like Christmas.

Aziraphale snuggled closer to his husband and pulled his side of the plaid up, tucking himself in with his free hand. They had initially planned to stay just one week, but… well. They were all having such a good time…

He decided he would ask Crowley for one of his little time-related demonic miracles. They _could_ stay a little longer. A whole year, perhaps. Using the proper ineffable adjustments, no one would notice, and they could all go back to their normal life the exact day that they’d left it to have that magical alpine year.

The children kept discussing, waving their hands in wide gestures as if they had been accomplished lawyers. Crowley nosed Aziraphale’s neck and watched him with heavy lidded eyes before setting his mug on the floor and resting his head on Aziraphale’s lap. He started to snore quietly shortly after, and Aziraphale couldn’t hold back a smile.

Yes, there was no rush. Time was meaningless – it was just a human concept, after all. They could take it easy.

Soon it would be spring, and they would witness the first blooms and the new leafs appearing on the apple and chestnut trees down in the valley with their human friends. In summer, they would all spend their time taking long walks, admiring Crowley’s remarkable skills at rock climbing (or rock slithering? It wasn’t clear) and they’d go berry hunting with Aziraphale. In autumn, apples and chestnuts would be waiting for them, just to be picked and baked and savoured, in a flurry of orange leaves. And eventually it would be winter again.

It was going to be an absolutely lovely year, a year to remember in all the best ways.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on [Tumblr](https://saretton.tumblr.com)! :)


End file.
